Poison
by Pinklove21
Summary: Post Mockingjay, a little oneshot inspired by the poem Delicious Poisons by Dakota Ellerton. Hope you enjoy!


_He clutched his pillow as he held back his voice,_

_it will only last a moment._

_The pain in his chest settled._

_The medications taking it's toll now,_

_spreading through his body like a silent poison._

Attempted suicide, they tell me. The last thing I ever thought I would hear Hazelle Hawthorne inform me of on the phone that rang in mine and Peeta's home. It's been years, far too long since I talked to him. Too long because I'm not one to forgive, I couldn't bear to talk to him let alone look at him after that damn connection with his bomb designs and my little Prim burning into a crisp, smoldering nothingness back in the Capitol at the end of the war. And yet here I am in the hospital in District 2 to see him. I feel responsible somehow though I haven't seen him in years.

No…I know I am responsible. At least partially. Just because I haven't seen or talked to him in six years doesn't mean I don't know what more likely than not brought this along. Thoughts of him have poisoned my dreams and yet I long for it at the same time. I deny any feelings and yet I miss him, even more so when on my attempts at hunting half blind and deaf. I always thought I relied on no one, that I was independent. Seems that in a way I was wildly miscorrect and we allowed it to shatter, allowed the poisons of war and stress to break us.

And so I ended up here. Watching him as he lays on a hospital cot with handcuffs on his wrists connected to the bed for 'safety' reasons. The only safety he needs is from himself. No…I can't lie to myself. This is because of me.

He breaks out into a sweat and I can tell he's having a nightmare, probably similar to mine as my deceased little sister's name slips from him as a whisper. I probably wouldn't have caught it had I not known what it sounded like from my own nightmares. While he's still unconscious I can tell he's even now trying to hold back something, something he wants to scream as he grips the pillow and his face creases in pain. The nurse apparently sees this too as she shoots more medicine in and his face relaxes, if only for the moment.

_Candles flickering around his room, _

_shadows start dancing on the walls._

_The voices have gotten louder, _

_telling him to keep going._

_A spider hangs from the curtain, _

_it's seen everything._

_The tears ran down his cheek without acknowledgement._

_Over and over, _

_I replayed the same images._

_It's repetitive._

I lost the game with myself. I lost the will to survive, to find a way to move on without so much guilt. Heartache. Loss. Pain. For someone who survived for years on his own (well…almost alone) and provided for years, I've fucked up my life pretty dang hard. After realizing that I'd lost _her_ not only because of him but because of those damn plans and not following any rules (what ever happened to all's fair in love and war?), I left. There wasn't anything to stay for.

I tried moving on, I really did. Got a job I hated to support my family still though it wasn't as necessary. Vague attempts to hunt in unfamiliar woods that ended up being a joke because I couldn't make myself shoot anything. Trying to make myself forget her by looking for a new girl. But I couldn't do any of it; she poisoned my thoughts and blood, she completely overtook me and I don't see how to fix that. The only anecdote I know if is lost to me.

So what do I do? Find different poisons in an attempt to mask it. Haymitch obviously found alcohol helpful so I tried that for a few years. Ended up terrifying Posy once because apparently I'm a horribly scary drunk and I ended that for her sake. Even if my family knew I was broken I didn't want it to affect them. So I tried a new poison; drugs. Interesting things, those are, but it didn't mask anything. In fact, it made the nightmares worse. So I went for adrenaline, something to get me so high that I felt like I was flying and when it wore off left me so drained I couldn't think, couldn't even dream.

Then I tried a cliff that was probably too high and unfortunately people saw. They tried to stop me but I couldn't, I did it anyway. And now I'm here wherever this is, probably a psych ward. Because they probably think I'm crazy. That I was attempting suicide.

Not like it hadn't crossed my mind before, but it honestly wasn't what I was doing. But it doesn't matter. Not to them.

So instead of facing reality I stick to this dark world inside my head. When I'm more fully awake and their medicine hasn't totally poisoned my bloodstream I can sense the lights on in the room I'm in behind my eyelids. Spots in my blind vision move in a haze, changing again and again into _her_. Mocking me.

The images keep coming whether I'm awake or not behind my closed eyes. Of her, of Prim, of a silly, stupid bomb. How incredibly stupid I am.

They just keep coming and I keep myself willingly in the dark because I can't stand to face reality. Not yet.

_So worried I'd find him laying motionless, _

_he'd really only fallen asleep, just as she'd said._

_My heart fell to my stomach, _

_it was relief if ever._

_Like the first breath of fresh air in a life time, _

_my heart started._

_My face was puffy from crying, _

_my eyes a ruby red._

_If I didnt have him..._

_There'd be no me._

The first time was a mistake. He wasn't attempting suicide, he was just cliff jumping. Apparently he did it all the time. So without him even knowing that I had been there at all, I left like a ghost in the middle of the night and went back to twelve to live my existence with Peeta.

That was three months ago. Now he really did it and I'm falling apart. He's on the brink of death but still alive they tell me. Terrified I won't make it, I shake to my very core as my eyes turn red from crying. I don't care if I appear weak at all for once; he could be dead.

Despite everything, that thought shatters me completely. Can I truly live in a world where he doesn't exist, mad at him or no? He told me once that he was like the man in the hanging tree…but is that right. Can I truly survive without him?

It terrifies me that I can't say for certain the answer is yes.

As I raced towards his room my heart was beating frantically and yet not at all. As soon as I got there though Hazelle assured me that he was just sleeping as I looked on in horror at his still form.

Just sleeping. Just sleeping. He's alright.

What would I truly do if the man in front of me didn't exist? I said once that he was mine and I was his. We were so bound together that I couldn't say for certain what would happen if one of us died. Would I die with him?

Perhaps. Or at least a part of me would because so much of me was…is him.

Why did it take me so long to realize that?

_My exhistants hangs lightly as it is, _

_so fragile like an Amethyst Crystal._

_I'm as see-through as glass._

_With words so blunt and piercing, _

_my heart had nearly stopped._

_I couldn't breathe, I couldn't think._

I really tried this time. I actually did it, had come to the point of no return. But they caught me on the brink and brought me back. Now who knows what will happen to me? I've laid still thus far in the hopes that this was all a dream but the crushing pain is a harsh reminder that it isn't.

That's alright, I probably deserved it anyway. I'd rather not breath or think at this point because what's the use? She's ruined me forever and I can't find a way to move on.

But they'll make me try. I know they will so I might as well face them now. Without warning to them I open my eyes quick as lightning to take in the scene and instantly stop breathing or thinking. My heart stands still for a second because maybe I did actually die.

Because there is no fucking way _she_ would be here in reality.

_I'm such a hyprocrite, _

_maybe that's why I couldn't stay angry._

_After all, _

_he'd had the same idea I had._

_My hands trembled to see him, _

_I bit my lip trying not to speak._

_Thank God he's alive._

He just stares at me as I bite my lip. I don't bother yelling at him for his attempted death because I've come to accept I would have done the same. But really all I can think is that he's alive and he can still be mine.

I'm such a hypocrite. Why after all this time do I still only love him when he's in pain? No, it's not that, it's like I'm too selfish to realize it otherwise. Only when he's in pain am I as well, we're so connected. It's like a poison that runs from him straight into me, shocking my heart in the process. I don't even care about Peeta now and that makes me a horrible person but I can't find it in me to care.

He's alive and he can still be mine. If he'll let me.

Slowly walking over to him in the bed our eyes never leave each other. Never once because they can't physically take it. We haven't spoken yet but after all this time we still don't need to. Not yet anyway.

I lean down to place a hand on his shoulder and bite back my 'thank god you're alive' because he wouldn't want to hear it. Not from me. Besides, we were never good with words anyway so he might take me as a hypocrite for it.

So what do I do? Show him, pressing my lips gently to his as I let the poison of pain and suffering and anger seep out of him, out of me. Because if we can rid ourselves of that we can be what we were meant to be.

Or at least that's what I tell myself.


End file.
